“Not with you, man of blood,” cried Ada. “God sees this deed. Murderer, I cannot go with you.”
“’Twas my life or his,” said Gray, creeping out from behind the ladder, where he had been crouching, and through the spokes of which he had shot Elias as he descended with a certainty of effect.
“No—no. Such was not the fact,” cried Ada.
“I care not,” said Gray, throwing off his low cautious tone, and assuming a high shrill accent of anger; “I care not. Place what construction you will upon me, or my actions, you shall come with me now, or remain here to starve. Refuse to accompany me, and I will remove the ladder and leave you here with the dead.”
Ada shuddered.
“Whither—oh whither would you lead me?” she said.
“To some other place of refuge for a short time, until my purposes are completed. Be quick girl, do you stay or go?”
“It may be death to go,” said Ada, “but it is suicide to stay.”
“You consent?”
“I am in the hand of Providence. To it I commit myself. I will follow you.”